August Moon

THE MANGO TREE
by Shawn Powell

Within the land of Sugar Cane,
the island's heat did swoon;
I sat upon a Palm tree stump,
the time was nearly noon.

I gazed upon a playing field,
where boys revealed their game;
Upon a diamond in the rough,
Bad hops displayed no shame.

The sun was bearing straight for me,
My collar soaked in sweat;
I reached inside my travel bag,
In search of something wet.

My throat was dry, the dust was thick
as it twirled across the field;
I longed to quench my dreadful thirst,
But, no beverage would I yield.

As I slowly raised my eyes ahead,
I spied a boy of ten;
Who stood in tattered shoes of gray,
His body frail and thin.

His shorts were brown much like his
skin, his T-shirt had been torn;
He knew no other life on earth,
impoverished he was born.

He glared at me with cautious eyes,
As my tote remained unzipped;
On top there lay a pack of gum,
inside his heart had flipped.

I took the gum out of the bag,
and offered him the pack;
But with one finger, bony thin,
he signaled "I'll be back".

And as he darted across the road,
I watched him pick up speed;
He jumped a fence, he showed no sense
He climbed a Mango Tree.

In record time he scaled the trunk,
then returned back to the ground;
Over the road, he burned a path;
He raced the speed of sound.

I stood amazed, this boy had solved,
the problem to my thirst;
With fruit in hand it swelled with juice;
He answered my need first.

As I handed him the pack of gum,
I saw his bleeding hand;
His smile dimmed the brightest star,
as he stood in burning sand.

And I pondered why a boy of ten,
would risk his life for me;
When so-called friends would hide away
if problems they would see.

As I sat upon that tree stump,
The boy soon drifted free;
And I found a friend for life that day,
He climbed the Mango Tree.